


Call me son... one last time

by Skyfirewolf



Series: Hamilton short stories [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, G.Wash is a ghost here btw, Gen, Grief, Hamilson, Poor Alex - Freeform, Sad, So Hambone is basically all alone, THEN HIS DAD GOES AND DIES, Washingdad, and Alex is alive but emotionally drained and SAD in general, this takes place after the Reynolds Pamphlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyfirewolf/pseuds/Skyfirewolf
Summary: A month after George Washington dies, Alexander Hamilton comes to pay his respects, and realizes something a bit too late
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington
Series: Hamilton short stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596310
Comments: 13
Kudos: 75





	Call me son... one last time

Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton stood at the foot of George Washington’s grave. It was a cold January day, and the snow was falling gently. As the white flakes landed on Alexander’s long dark hair and black attire, his face remained devoid of any emotion or life. The rest of his family had long gone, and only he remained at the grave. Alexander’s eyes were closed, allowing him to bring back the memories of the man who had been his general and president. For a moment, he forgot that Washington was dead, forgot that he was now entombed in the earth forever instead of being there with him like he was supposed to. Alexander opened his eyes, saw the gravestone, and was reminded once more. He felt a pang of shame. It had been nearly a month since he received Martha Washington’s letter informing him of the president's death. She had clearly anticipated Alexander's tide of emotions, for she had written him about how George was at peace now, and how he was free of the pain and illness that had plagued him for the past weeks. She'd also included the last letter he wrote to Alexander. None of it had helped. Alexander had been filled with such an inexplicable pain that it was only until now, nearly a month later, that he had been able to summon up enough courage to come and pay his respects to the man who’d played such a large role in his life. Tears welled up in Alexander’s eyes, but he didn’t wipe them away like he usually would. Instead, he let them fall, let them flow down his cheeks in never ending streams of grief. His stony facade shattered as he remembered one particular scene from years ago.

“Or you could die! And we need you alive!”

“I am more than willing to die!”

“Your wife needs you alive, son, I need you alive!”

“CALL ME SON ONE MORE TIME!”

Alexander’s entire body heaved, harsh sobs tearing themselves from his throat as his legs gave way beneath him. He fell to the ground, mouth open in a soundless wail, tears pouring from his eyes. He knew now that George Washington hadn’t only been his general and president. No, he’d been far more than that, Alexander had just been too blind to see it. He struggled to speak, to get at least one last phrase out for the man who had always been there for him. 

“Father… teach me how to say goodbye. Call me son… one last time.”

Then, everything went white.

__________________________________________________

“Alexander.” 

A soft voice stirred Alexander’s hair, and he moaned and turned over sleepily. “Five more minutessszzzz…” He slurred before sleep took him once more. The voice chuckled - a deep, rumbling sound - and called his name again, this time slightly louder.   
“Alex, wake up my boy.” Alexander didn’t respond. Well, at least not until the voice called him a third time. This time, there was no softness in the call at all. It was sharp, loud, and resonated with authority. 

“ATTENTION!” 

That got Alexander awake and on his feet in an instant. Feet planted, back straight, shoulders squared, and eyes looking forward, the Carribean would have looked the model soldier had it not been for his puffy red eyes and tear stains on his cheeks.

The sight of the person that stood before him shocked him nearly into fainting.

It was none other than George Washington himself.

The former general smiled softly, appearing amused at the dumbfounded look on his former secretary’s face. “There’s my boy.”   
His deep voice rumbled through Alexander. Alexander who, at that moment found himself rendered incapable of forming a direct sentence, instead stuttering his words out in a confused jumble of “what”s, “how”s, and “where”s. Washington strode towards him and rested his hand on Alexander’s shoulder, effectively cutting off his stream of confused words. Alexander looked up at Washington as his initial shock began to fade. 

Unfortunately, after the shock came realization; realization that Washington was in fact, supposed to be dead. Instantly, Alexander felt his eyes fill. “Wh- what? But you’re d- dead!” He tried to scramble backwards, but Washington’s hand seemed to keep his feet rooted to the ground. “You’re supposed to be dead!” Alexander’s voice came out as more of a frightened cry than anything, and the tears filling his eyes finally broke loose. Gasping for breath, he collapsed to the ground. “You’re supposed to be dead…” 

Distantly, Alexander heard Washington sigh. Then, quite suddenly, there were arms around him, pulling him close, Washington’s voice murmuring gentle words into his hair. Alexander fell apart. The sound of his deep, heart-wrenching sobs filled the mysterious void they were in. “You’re supposed- You’re suppo-” 

“Hush my boy.” Washington soothed, rubbing Alexander’s back in gentle circles. “It’s okay son. It’s okay.” Out of control, Alexander continued to sob, his hands clenched tight around fistfuls of the former president’s coat. And Washington let him. He let his former aide cry. 

“D- don’t leave m- me!” Alexander wailed, begged, Washington. 

“Alexander, look at me.” A hand tipped Alexander’s face upwards until he met the General’s eyes, filled with affection and worry. “Look at me son.” He murmured softly. Once he had the Treasurer's attention, Washington let out a hefty sigh. “Alex… I never wanted to cause you pain. I’m sorry I had to go, but it was my time.” A fresh wave of tears burst from Alexander’s eyes, and Washington let him bury his face in his chest, cradling him. “It was my time, son, as it is for everyone at some point. It is but a factor of life my boy. I can’t do anything to change it, nobody can, no matter how much we may want to.” He chuckled sadly. “It’s as I told you, you can’t control who lives, who dies, or who tells your story. In the end, we’re all just figures in History’s plan.” 

Alexander shifted in his arms and looked up at him. He’d stopped crying or run out of tears, George didn’t want to know. “Does this mean that I’ll never see you again?” He whimpered. 

Washington briefly tightened his embrace, a gentle, regretful smile on his face. “No my boy. Not until it is your time to join us on the other side. But until then, your mother, Laurens and I will be watching you.” 

Alexander sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Alright… I suppose I can live with that. Thank you…. Father.” 

Washington’s eyes glowed, and his outline began to fade. 

“Always. And, Alex?” 

Alexander looked up at the general’s faint shape.

“I love you, son.”


End file.
